


Reindeer Games

by SQ (proteinscollide)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proteinscollide/pseuds/SQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, they’ve all kissed each other, for a laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reindeer Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> written for thedreamisreal for the 3point5seats holiday fic exchange
> 
> beta'd by the lovely Ro (littlerhymes), as always

The thing is, they’ve all kissed each other, for a laugh. But Niall’s always more aware of it when Harry does it. 

Like when he kisses Louis when he’s acting up, all hyper, in the mood to one-up Lou no matter what. It starts off as rough-housing, fighting dirty all over the floor of the green room they’ve been cooped up in for what seems like hours, and then Harry holds himself above Louis on both arms and plants a loud, wet kiss on the mouth. He pulls back and they look at each other for a long moment, then Louis pinches Harry’s nipple, hard, and Harry shrieks and they’re back to play fighting, business as usual. 

Or like when Harry kisses Liam two seconds before an interview on another chat show, his mouth skidding over Liam’s jaw, licking at his mouth for a quick second at the end. Harry grins at Liam’s shocked face, and then they’re pushed on stage, and Liam looks flustered under the bright lights as he’s never been before.

And Zayn likes to peck at Harry at random moments, little darting affectionate kisses, and then sometimes one or the other turns their head the wrong way, at the wrong moment, and Niall watches and remembers every single one of these accidental kisses. 

But Niall likes to think he’s the only one who’s properly kissed Harry.

**

They’re all still giggling after the last question when the host asks, “Who is the best kisser?” and the girls start screaming and they all start looking at each other to work out who’s going to take this one. 

But Harry barely stops to think before he answers, “Niall”.

Niall cracks up straight away. The others, still arguing about the semantics of the question, follow a second later when they see the surprised face of the interviewer. Niall looks up at Harry, still giggling, and the look on his face makes him laugh even more, to try and ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach. 

After, there’s no end of teasing from all of them. 

“Weren’t you paying even the least amount of attention in school, Harry?” Zayn asks, “You can’t prove anything without proper scientific method. Like, repeated testing and all to get the same results.” He makes a kissy face and shoves it close to Niall, who just bats him away, rolling his eyes. 

Louis adds, “Yeah, you can’t just speak for all us of and say Niall’s the best kisser, if we haven’t all tested the hypothesis!” 

And because it’s Lou, it then becomes a game of sorts. They try to get Niall when he least expects it, though it sort of becomes habit with Liam because as always, he’s missed the point of the joke in the nicest way. He starts by sneaking shy, chaste kisses on Niall’s cheek, egged on by Louis, but then it turns absentminded kisses on Niall’s forehead or cheek whenever, wherever he goes past, like when he’s grabbing a snack from craft services or when he gets up to get another round of beer for everyone during movie night on the bus. Niall likes it, the comforting normality of it. 

Louis’ attempts are always fun. They usually involve some sort of chase that inevitably ends with Lou grabbing him in a big hug, squeezing him tight so he can kiss him into submission, then running away with a loud whoop when he’s successful. He also seems to aim for a different body part each time – left ear, nose, right elbow, both knees, ankle; and once, a loud raspberry blown noisily against his belly, leaving them both weak with laughter on floor, to Paul’s fond but eternal frustration as he tries to get them up for the next thing they’re meant to be at. 

Zayn catches him just the once, but Niall ends up thinking about it quite a bit. They’d set up a crazy chase for security through the bowels of yet another venue, this time in Cologne, scattering throughout endless tunnels. Zayn surprises him around a quiet corner of a floor they’re not supposed to be on, nothing but empty grey passageways. He winds himself around Niall, pressing up close, and Niall feels himself flush with the shared heat of their bodies, the concrete wall hard behind him. Zayn tips his head back and they make out slowly, leisurely, with Zayn’s hands on his waist, Niall’s sliding under the waistband of Zayn’s sweats, just shy of the top of his arse. He doesn’t know how long they kiss, and it’s not until he thinks they’ve been caught – a quick, sharp intake of breath – that he looks up. There’s nobody there, but Zayn steps away, lips red and shiny, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. 

Harry is the only one who doesn’t join in. Niall tries not to dwell on it, tries not feel too disappointed that Harry doesn’t want to kiss him (again), not even as a game. 

**

They’re stateside playing a run of shows in the lead-up to Christmas, and interspersed with the endless parade of hotel rooms, interview, rehearsals and stages are all the holiday trappings. 

On one shoot, the photographer lets them run wild with the lights and ornaments and props, and it turns into an all-out fight with baubles lobbed across enemy lines and fake snow smashed across each other’s faces and down sweaters. 

On another shoot, someone makes the fatal mistake of letting them loose in a kitchen. Despite the increasingly frantic attempts from their minders and the photographer to make them focus on making gingerbread in the shape of snowmen and trees and angels, it inevitably descends into food fight madness, flour and sugar in all sorts of uncomfortable places. At one point, Niall finds himself tackled to the floor, and his whole band attacks him with kisses from all directions, leaving lip shaped imprints on his forehead, his cheek and his shin – and one floury handprint on his stomach, where his shirt’s rucked up. 

Then Liam finds a sprig of mistletoe and he and Louis take great delight in creating casual chaos by whipping it out over random pairs of people over the new few days. Zayn, first victim, gets to kiss Lou (and Lux), then Liam, a delighted fan, and a mirror, the last while rolling his eyes as Louis cackles, arms raised high with the mistletoe above the frame. 

Niall gets banned from hanging out with the crew after he’s made to kiss every single member of their security team, a few of their grizzled, bemused roadies, and most of the band.

“C’mon, how do you two even find me?” Niall demands, after Liam and Louis turn up as he’s talking to Paul. 

“A ninja never tells!” Louis says. “Now go on then, kiss. Don’t you dare break Christmas tradition.” 

Paul takes it well, laughing as Niall makes a face and rubs at his chin where stubble has left a prickly sensation.

“You have to find me someone prettier and less hairy next time,” Niall grumbles. 

Harry kisses Lou and Lux, Josh, a blushing middle-aged TV host on a morning show, and Zayn. Niall catches the tail end of that kiss, and stabs viciously at his phone, sending messages back home, trying to ignore the stupid pangs of jealousy when Zayn and Harry talk quietly by themselves in the corner for what seems like hours after. 

Then the offending sprig mysteriously disappears, to most of the tour’s relief. Louis pouts for half a day, but then he and Liam get given two giant candy canes from some fans and proceed to drive everyone crazy by having fierce battles with the candy wielded like lightsabers, and they all seem to forget about it. 

** 

Zayn grabs Niall coming around a corner the night before they head home. Niall gets a flashback to that afternoon in Germany, but Zayn just smiles at him and then turns so Lux can say hi too, holding her on his hip. 

“Hey, can you do me a favour? Can you give this back to Harry? Hey Louis, is he - ” 

Louis comes up behind Zayn, playing peek-a-boo with Lux over his shoulder. “Yeah, I think Harry’s in his room.”

Zayn hands Niall a small white envelope, and Niall takes it, feels something hard and flat within.

“Spare keycard to his room?” he guesses, and Zayn darts a glance at Louis, almost imperceptibly. 

“Yeah, that,” Zayn says after a pause that’s just a touch long. “Oh, you might want him to open and check it’s the right one while you’re there, just in case.”

It doesn’t make much sense to Niall, but he shrugs, says okay, and waves goodbye to Lux and the boys as he walks down the corridor and down the stairs to the floor below, where he and Harry’s rooms are. 

Harry answers the door after a fair bit of knocking, in pyjama bottoms and nothing else, eyes half-lidded. 

“Ah, sorry, didn’t realise you were asleep,” Niall says apologetically. He knows how precious naps are. “Zayn just asked me to bring this up to you, think it’s your spare room key.” He holds out the envelope, then starts moving away from the door once Harry takes it. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Harry says. “But I’m pretty sure I gave Paul my spare.” He leans against the door, hip cocked, lips pursed as he flips the envelope over to open the seal. He looks all worn and soft as he fumbles with the contents, and Niall can’t help but take the opportunity to study him unnoticed, his body dotted with patches of ink; he can’t help getting distracted by the idea of burying his face in the soft skin between Harry’s neck and shoulder, maybe to nuzzle and bite him there. 

Then Niall blinks back the thought guiltily, his eyes darting back to Harry’s face to see if he’s noticed. But Harry’s staring bemusedly at the piece of stiff paper he’d pulled from the envelope, and then he looks up above the door. Niall’s gaze follows. 

There’s something attached to the top of the frame. It’s been stuck down haphazardly with a bulge of duct tape, and it’s a bit tired looking now, but it’s instantly recognisable as the same sprig of mistletoe Liam and Louis had terrorised them with last week. Harry laughs nervously, turning it into a cough, as he looks over at Niall. 

Niall thinks about laughing it off, saying something about _good joke lads, you got me_. But he’s a little tired, a little homesick, and looking at Harry at this moment reminds him so much of that first time. So he leans forward with a flash of courage and kisses Harry again. 

That first kiss, he’d blamed it on drink and tiredness then. They’d only arrived in Mullingar late in the afternoon, and then Greg had fed them a couple of beers throughout the night, laughing at the red flush high on their cheeks, their stunned, unfocussed gazes as they lay collapsed in a heap on Niall’s childhood bed. 

They’d fallen asleep like that, tangled, and Niall woke in the middle of the night to a house quiet and dark. He got up to take a slash and when he returned, Harry had woken too. Niall had just made out the whites of Harry’s eyes, when he’d stubbed his toe on the leg of the bedside table and fallen onto the bed and onto Harry in a flood of curses. 

Niall had felt Harry shaking with laughter under him, one arm sliding around his middle easily.

“My virgin ears,” Harry said. “I never knew half those words before I met you.” Niall snorted. “Really!” Harry insisted, then added in a fond voice, “God, I’m glad I’m doing this with you lot.”

“Yeah,” Niall said. “Can’t imagine what it would’ve been like on my own.”

“You think it’ll work out?” Harry asked, his voice small. His fingers found Niall’s in the dark, and Niall laced them together.

“Definitely,” he answered. “We’ve done great so far, right? Who knows how far we could go.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, echoing Niall. “Who knows.”

And in that moment, Niall had leaned down and pressed his mouth to Harry’s, grateful and glad he wasn’t alone. Harry had tasted of promise, a wealth of possibilities. 

Now, barely two years on, he still tastes like hope and happiness, of home, even though they’re a continent away. 

“I still think you’re the best kisser,” Harry mumbles against Niall’s lips. “Have since that time.”

Niall grins to know they’re thinking of the same moment.

“Yeah, me too,” he says. “I’ve never really needed to test it to know.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> The interview mentioned is [this one](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cgw0kuO8zQ) (the particular question is around 6 minutes in)


End file.
